


Dead is the New Alive

by shakespeareishq



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M, Necrophilia, Paraphilias, Schmoop, but only simulated, mentions of past canon character deaths, no really, there is no 'technical' necrophilia in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespeareishq/pseuds/shakespeareishq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mini-character study of Dean Winchester, had he been a necrophiliac, and how he and Benny Lafitte manage to live happily ever after anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead is the New Alive

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely Kat's fault, who reminded me that I had meant to write a different story with necrophilia in it and never did, so I wrote this instead.
> 
> It started out as ‘Dean likes to fuck Benny because Benny is dead’ and turned into 2000 words of the summary of Dean Winchester's life, now with bonus urges to sleep with a corpse....and *then* Dean/Benny. 
> 
> But yo let me say again, there is /graphic discussion of necrophilia and simulated necrophilia/ in here do NOT say I did not warn you. Dean does not actually fuck a real dead body though, except for maybe some vague funny stuff in Hell, only thinks about it + has sex with Benny. 
> 
> I will say that this is sort of…decidedly schmoopy necrophilia, if a) such a thing exists and b) you’d be into it if it did.
> 
> Fic title kindly borrowed from Emilie Autumn.

At some point in his development, being constantly surrounded by the dying and the dead, digging up graves just because it was Tuesday and grave desecration was a perfectly normal Tuesday family activity for the Winchesters, at some point the wires got all criss-crossed in his head and he started getting….well.

The sight of neat clean dead flesh just. 

He can’t bring himself to even think about it most days, let alone say it. He’d had a few unsuccessful girlfriends over the years, but he kept getting frustrated that they could never  _stay still_  and they were too warm and. Too alive. 

So he doesn’t have sex. He knows it’s fucked up. He knows it’s wrong. He suspects that if he tried to get help they’d possibly throw him in jail before he finished the phrase ‘My name is Dean Winchester and I’m a necrophiliac.’ So he never acts on it.

He thinks about it though. No one can attack him for it in his fantasies. He’s sort of determined that he doesn’t like rot, or decay. He thinks about taking a victim’s body home from the morgue, washed clean and cool and marred only by a neat autopsy scar, maybe a wound across the throat where the object of their hunt had left its mark. But cold. And clean. Nothing oozing or bloating, the way he’s seen corpses left to the elements do. It would have a bit of dead body smell, but Dean’s been used to that for years, it’s just another smell to him now. And he’d somehow get them back to his motel without Sam or anyone noticing, and he’d have…alone time. Maybe for a day, maybe longer, depends on the condition the vic was in when they were found.

Sam’s body had lasted four days. Not that Dean had. Not that he could bring himself to. Oh he’d  _thought_  about it but. 

Sometimes in his dreams it’s Sam, knife wound in his back, limp and pliant in his arms. Those are the days Dean starts with the whiskey at breakfast.

Hell had been a revelation as much as it had been a torment. Because of course Alistair knew. Alistair knew everything. And for thirty years he’d resisted. 

And then he hadn’t resisted anymore. 

He’d told Sam about the torture, eventually. Told him that he liked it and that much was true. He never told anyone what  _else_  Alistair had offered him in hell, and how much he’d liked  _that_.

For a while he hated Castiel. ‘You could heal every scar on my body but you couldn’t fix  _this_?’

But it was pointless to blame Castiel. It was pointless to blame his father. It was pointless to blame anyone. It was pointless to blame himself but he does it anyway. If Castiel knows Dean’s secret he doesn’t bring it up.

There had been a world to save, in the grand scheme of the universe and God’s cosmic board game to which only he knew all the rules, one non-practicing necrophiliac could possibly be ignored, though never excused.  

There had been no corpse for Dean to mourn this time. No sweet dead Sammy for him to do…anything to. It was probably for the best. 

He’d found Lisa because he thought that’s what he was supposed to do, what Sam would want him to do. He liked her, maybe could’ve even grown to love her, given enough time, but he would never  _want_  her, and she needed that too much for the relationship to work. 

And then suddenly there was Sam back again and they saved the world. Again. Dean wondered briefly if the version of his brother that lacked a soul would be more understanding about his problem, but it’s still not a conversation he’ll ever be ready to have with anything that wears his brother’s face. It doesn’t really matter though, because there were leviathans to kill, or to try to kill, and then they lost Bobby, and then they lost Dean.

He maintains that purgatory was even better than hell. In Alistair he’d found a mentor and a master and a cruel cruel god, but in Benny he’d found a  _friend_.

Dean let himself get closer to Benny than he’d gotten to a person in years. He was affectionate, but not stifling, calling Dean ridiculous pet names and kissing him on the cheek just before spinning around to decapitate some unfortunate soul stuck here like the rest of them. Only not, like the rest of them, because Benny promised a way out. A way back, which wasn’t even the best part.

No, the best part was that Benny lacked a heartbeat and a core body temperature.

Dean had wondered why he’d never thought about it before, sleeping with a vampire. Well no, he knows why, he was raised in the John Winchester school of ‘everything with fangs must die’. But he thinks Benny might fit very neatly into the loophole Dean’s convinced himself must exist. Not all angels are dicks, Cas turned out alright, so maybe not all vampires are either.

And the ‘I’m sleeping with the man who rescued me from purgatory while you meanwhile hit a dog’ conversation has to be easier than the ‘I can only get off when I’m thinking about fucking a cadaver’ conversation. Sam will come around.

For the first time Dean actually finds himself looking forward to sex, anticipating it as a good thing instead of something to shame himself about in the dark. His chosen partner can consent for once, that’s novel. It’s not perfect though, Benny still wants to talk and wants to move and touch Dean, wants to kiss him and usually wants to be kissed back. Dean doesn’t much care for that, but he’s managed to do enough mental gymnastics so that after he lets Benny take his own pleasure from Dean’s body, he can sit astride Benny’s limp form while he’s basking in the afterglow and pretend  _very_  hard until he comes.

While they’re in purgatory, this seems to satisfy Benny. They share nearly a year of the best relationship Dean has ever had. It goes to shit when they make it topside.

They agree to part ways long enough for Dean to find Sam and talk to him, tell him about Benny and try to convince him not to send Dean’s one shot at normality right back to the dimension he’d crawled out of. Sam’s not totally convinced, but he agrees to give living with Benny a shot, for Dean’s sake. Dean could kiss him, were he into that sort of thing.

Benny is the one who becomes the problem. He’d apparently thought Dean’s incredibly specific method of having sex with him had been some kind of reaction to purgatory, and he hadn’t wanted to confront Dean about it because Dean was his lover, but he was also Benny’s meal ticket, and Benny wasn’t stupid enough to jeopardize that. But now he has questions, and he wants answers and he doesn’t seem prepared to accept ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’ as an acceptable one. He wants to know why Dean doesn’t respond well to his touches, why Dean always insists on not coming until Benny has, why Dean only seems to like it when Benny is—

Benny figures it out. Dean was less afraid going toe to toe with Lucifer. 

He tries to apologize, make some excuse, say anything to convince Benny that he’s wrong about Dean, that Dean’s  _not_  broken and fucked up and so far past saving.

Benny just looks him dead in the eye and asks, “is this what you need, Dean?”

If Benny’s going to kill him Dean thinks he’ll make it quick, so he nods. Once. 

"Alright. I can live with that." And before Dean registers what Benny’s just said to him Benny pulls Dean into his arms and lays them both back on the bed. And then he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe. Closes his eyes and keeps his arms around Dean but loose enough that Dean could move them if he wanted. When Dean tries it Benny just lets his arms fall how Dean places them, gravity and Dean Winchester the only forces capable of acting upon him.

As soon as Dean realizes what Benny’s doing he gets so hard so fast it makes him a little lightheaded.

Benny is ok with this, he wants Dean just how he is, or is at least willing to indulge him. Benny has just become the proverbial oasis to Dean’s starving man in the desert. He falls on Benny, ravenous and hot and out of control but it’s  _ok_. Benny’s plenty strong enough to stop him if he really wants, maybe they should’ve made a safeword or something but Dean isn’t stopping until Benny does something to indicate that he should. He plays with Benny’s mouth, kissing him, so fucking relieved that Benny doesn’t kiss back this time, caressing the soft insides of Benny’s cheeks with his fingers. He tastes Benny everywhere he’s always wondered about, his soft armpits, the inside of his elbow, his bellybutton, the backs of his knees, right down to his toes. 

Benny’s stocky, so it’s a bit of effort to roll him over onto his stomach without any help, more effort to get all his clothes off. But Dean does it and the utter stillness and silence in the room brushes down Dean’s back like a caress. He still takes the time to prepare Benny, stretch him so this won’t hurt because unlike a real corpse Benny can still feel pain and Dean has no intention of being cruel. He’s so in love with this impossible perfect man beneath him and it’s not Benny’s sick need it’s Dean’s, so of course he’s going to try and make sure Benny at least sort of enjoys it. Hopefully. 

Dean lets out an honest to god sob when he slides into Benny’s cool body. He doesn’t have to work at pretending Benny is dead for once, Benny does a perfect job of it, not reacting even when Dean fucks into him hard enough to scoot him up the bed a little. 

It’s over embarrassingly fast, Dean just too overwhelmed that this is something he’s allowed to do to make it last. Dean pulls out and moves down to lick his own come from Benny’s ass, and Benny is hard, that being the one thing he couldn’t control, so Dean gladly gets him onto his back again and swallows him down. Benny does finally respond to that, inhaling sharply a few times when Dean does something he knows Benny especially likes, but the rest of Benny’s performance was flawless and Dean never thought he’d get anything like this in his life so a few involuntary breaths aren’t really bothering him. 

On the contrary, it’s actually a little bit hot to think of how much Benny must be holding back, how much he must want to grab Dean’s head and pull him up into Benny’s lap and kiss him all over, how much he’s giving up and giving in because he wants Dean to be happy.

Benny comes in Dean’s mouth on the softest of sighs, and he doesn’t immediately get up, letting Dean determine when the sex is actually over. Dean spends another few minutes nuzzling into Benny’s crotch, his stomach, then he moves to lift Benny’s arm up and tuck it around himself before telling Benny in a quiet voice that it’s ok for him to talk now.

Benny blinks his eyes open into the bright light of Dean’s bedroom, taking a minute to come back into himself before saying, “Anytime you need this, you come and tell me alright darlin’?” Dean just nods vigorously into Benny’s chest, not trusting himself to speak.

In the end, it had really been that simple. Dean hadn’t needed to change for Benny, hadn’t needed to hide or feel ashamed. Perhaps they met by coincidence, but Dean thinks they’ll stay together because it’s fate.

For the first time in his life, Dean Winchester feels a little less broken.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
